


Being Known

by Aurea_Aetas



Category: Bright Young Things
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Love Confessions, M/M, Miles isn't ready for commitment, it doesn't go well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 01:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurea_Aetas/pseuds/Aurea_Aetas
Summary: Miles had only wanted conversation. He hadn't been expecting a confessional.





	Being Known

**Author's Note:**

> I had more plans for this, but found I hit a wall in the writing process. I might continue it in the future, if I find the motivation. But for now, enjoy the angst!

“Did you love her? Nina, I mean.”

Miles was resting on top of Ginger when he asked the question, his doe-eyes heavy lidded with exhaustion. His chin rested on his hands, one on top of the other on Ginger’s chest. His lips were red, not from lipstick but from the bruising kisses they had shared only moments ago in the heat of passion. He was contentment personified.

They had been doing this for months, these clandestine little meetings in Miles’ cozy little Parisian suite. The two had met by chance, both rather lost on the path of life, but it was a small world. The familiarity of a lost home, of England, had brought them together.

They were positively comfortable around each other, which was more than either had gotten from their previous choice of partners.

Surely asking about one’s exes was considered poor taste for pillow talk, but Miles was never one to abide by convention, nor was he ever one to censor his thoughts. He liked to think that was what made him particularly charming.

Ginger took a drag from his cigarette and considered the question. He had known Nina practically since infancy. She had been familiar. A comfort. But had he loved her?

“I don’t suppose I did.” he answered finally, exhaling his lungful of smoke in more of a sigh than anything else. It still hurt to think about her, in some respects. He _ had _loved her, just not in the way of a husband and a wife. Not in the way she deserved.

“What _ is _ love, after all?” Miles’ question was rhetorical as he plucked the cigarette from between Ginger’s fingers, taking a drag of his own.

Miles had had many lovers in the past, of course, but they were just that. Companions to keep his bed warm, some longer than others. They hadn’t really loved him, he wasn’t so deluded as to think they did. No matter how pleasant their time together was, it always ended the same. Ginger was simply the next in line, and he would realize soon enough that there wasn’t much to Miles beyond the pretty mask he wore.

Beneath him, Ginger looked to be thinking awfully hard on Miles’ passing rhetorical. His brows were furrowed, his mouth a little frown beneath the absolutely darling mustache he sported that Miles just loved to kiss. “Well...I quite think I love _ you, _ ” he tested, the words sounding foreign on his tongue.

Miles chuckled, a low and smooth sound as he reached a delicate arm over to stub the cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand.

“That’s awfully sweet of you, dear, but there’s no need to butter me up. You’ve already got me in your bed. Or rather, I’ve got _ you _ in _ my _bed,” he explained, teasing a finger along the light dusting of hair on Ginger’s chest. Oh, how delighted he had been when those fine curls had first been revealed to him. “Positively got you in my clutches, I have.”

“You do,” Ginger agreed, far too serious for Miles’ liking. He was supposed to laugh, supposed to say something along the lines of “_ you must free me you foul beast! _ ” And then Miles would deny him his freedom and they would tumble back beneath the sheets together for more terribly wicked fun. He would have very much been in the mood for _ that. _

But no. Ginger was utterly and completely serious.

Anyone else would have been overjoyed at the admission after months of seemingly meaningless dalliances. In Miles’ case, it was quite the opposite. It activated his fight or flight response, and he had never been much of a fighter. Not when fleeing was just so much easier. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, pushing himself up off of Ginger to retrieve his clothes. Anything strewn about the suite would do, just so long as he could _ go. _

“Miles?” Ginger asked, and Miles had never heard him so heartbroken. It only made his own chest ache more. He really had cocked it up spectacularly.

“I really—I must be going. Do lock the door on your way out, darling, I won’t be back until late, I imagine—“

And then Miles was gone, for once not caring how he was dressed. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at my tumblr, wildeoscars.


End file.
